Somewhere in Texas

One more from the road.

Molly

Uncommon ground

Can you transcend the uncommon ground?

Can I jump?



Palestinian artist Khaled Jarrar is one of the Culturunners, a group of 10 Middle Eastern artists exploring the ideological boundaries between the US and the Middle East. More here.

Trump jacked on "cheap speed"?

Rumors abound. Makes sense to me. No matter what, the guy is whacked.

Source

Alligator Creek

Frieda Kahlo's palm tree is taller now. That's good news. Last time we were here it had been so neglected, I feared it would be dead by now. And being taller, most of the fronds are above the roof line. They're out of view but rustle more in the wind. It's a nice sound.

Molly and Swami on the screen porch.

And pops isn't dead either. We saw him this morning. He's looking skinny and spry as ever. And, again today, Sonny and his mom are back screaming at each other. He's big with the, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GAAAAWD! SHUT UP . . . knock this shit off!" He's got a cast on his arm. A drunken brawl or slip? Maybe Mom whacked him with a broom.

God, I'm awful.

Life on Alligator Creek 1

So, life at least on this little spot on Alligator Creek is same as ever. Comforting. Swami, Molly and I are in the screen porch. Is it "in" or "on"? 

The cause of why

Day five - Tallahassee to Alligator Creek - 340 mi.

Swami watching the Ibis

Good to be back on Alligator Creek. Sonny and his mom are still living across the street though we suspect Pops may have died and, when we pulled up, there was a huge flock of young Ibis grazing between their yard and ours. We stocked the house with food and saw some friends and now we're tucked in for the night. Funny, but sitting for five days in a car watching the miles flash by was exhausting. Tomorrow Kristiana and Thea arrive.Woohoo!

Day four

Day four - Shreveport to Tallahassee  - 649 mi.

Roadside pancakes for dinner

Flat, flat Florida.

Roadside oil rigs

Day Three - Amarillo to Shreveport - 551 mi.

Roadside oil rigs
metal dinosaurs in the
hot Texas morning.

Amarillo by nightfall

Day Two - Flagstaff to Amarillo - 608 mi 

 Flagstaff was fine, another Sweet Tomatoes for dinner. 

Land of the free

Don't mind us, wild things. Just passing through.

Texas afternoon

I feel sorry for the residents of Amarillo. In spite of the beautiful sky and having a gigantic wind farm nearby, Amarillo Texas sucked. Perhaps we put too much emphasis on dinner but, after another long day on the road, it's very important. So here's the deal. Don't eat at the The 806, a cafe, lounge, and bar with music at night unless you feel like lounging because, above all, The 806 is a 20-something lounge.

We waited an hour for what turned out to be little more than, as M. Lee put it, a bread sandwich. He  reviewed it on Happy Cow with a titled, "Unspeakably bad and lame". My cheese sandwich wasn't so bad but the diet coke was flat and warm. On the other hand, his "bread sandwich" which was thin bread smeared with a thin veneer of hummus—super lame—but the guy working his ass off behind the counter, probably his first job, was a nice kid. And we did manage to escape before the music started.

Roadtrip - Nevada to Florida - Day One

Day One - G'ville to Flagstaff - 664 mi

Are you ready?

There are two types of travelers in the world; which one are you?

     Source: Cooper Canyon Review by Sarah Cooper.

As one mefi commentator put it:

"For our honeymoon, Mr. Machine made a three ring binder with a detailed itinerary for each day, including not just attractions to visit and where we were staying each night, but also the mileage we would need to drive each day, alternate routes, alternate attractions in case of bad weather, options for eating, and places en route to buy souvenirs and snacks. It was more than 50 pages long for our two week trip, and was organized in a three ring binder and tabbed with section dividers.

"He sent the word document to his parents, so that they could admire it, and their first (loving) comment was that he had a typo on the first page."
-- joyceanmachine -- courtesy of M. Lee

Day One
- shortcut, outback Nevada -

The road is always a risk, best laid plans and all that but actually the grueling shortcut turned out to be one of the best parts of the day.  We saw wild horses and donkeys grazing in the desert hills plus several coyotes and—later—one jackrabbit scampering through the sagebrush.

Wild horses in Nevada desert

The temperature was 108° by the time we got to Vegas and lunch at Sweet Tomatoes buffet. It was freaky sitting a table away from a couple of macho idiots exercising Open Carry. By the time we crossed over into Arizona, the temperature had climbed to a sizzling 116°.

Here and gone

We returned from London on the 14th, spent a week in Portland and now we're back in Nevada for a couple of days. Sunday we leave for Florida. As usual, we're driving. And, as usual, M. Lee has already booked the motels and loaded the GPS with the addresses of the restaurants where we'll have dinner each night. You don't want to hit town after 12, 13 maybe 15 hours on the road and still have to find a place to eat, especially if you're vegetarian. We're not fussy though. A salad and baked potato will do just fine. But just for today, good to be home. Home—a strange and special place.

Happy strawberry solstice

source: National Geographic

I was delighted to hear, via my son and daughter-in-law, that tonight is the summer solstice and full moon and that this conjunction hasn't happened since 1948. Wow!

I have a tradition of noting the solstice and equinoxes but I thought it was yesterday and didn't even know about the moon. We've been back in America for about a week but I must still be a bit jet lagged. This is a happy reprieve.

Einstein on good and evil

Quick catch up

We've been in London now for three weeks and I've barely made a note. The emphasis of this visit has been the National Gallery on Trafalgar Square. We went eight times, about four hours a visit, and saw everything. We've seen most of it before but after all the art in Italy, where the Renaissance began, we needed to take a another look at the Renaissance art here. So, done. And yes, it was different, more in context for one thing plus I had a better idea of who and what to look for.

Anyway, no time to go into details right now. I need to save my battery for Hampton Court. At the moment we're on the Overground headed there for a second look at well. For one thing, I want to get better photos of Henry's kitchen. Its fireplace alone is big enough to live in.

Now a word from Mishka

No. No. Not him. No!

RIP Hanako

So sorry. Rest in peace, beautiful one.

Despite years of international outrage at Inokashira Park's treatment of the elephant Hanako and repeated offers to relocate her to an elephant sanctuary, Hanako passed away this week. She died the same way she spent her life ... alone in the zoo's concrete prison where she lived alone for 60 long years. She never felt grass, or dirt or had the comfort of the company of her own kind.

Hanako, forgive us.
source

One commenter wrote: "some people who were interviewed a while back said Hanako should stay in the zoo because they liked going to see her...selfish is the kindest word I can use..."

Comment senction 05.26.16

Trump is a vulgar, self-obsessed billionaire who's new game is to see if he can buy the Presidency. That's it. He loves the game. He is on no one's side but his own and will say and do anything to win. Oh he's a charmer but, once he's got you, he's already moved on. Now he owns the Republican party. Too bad guys. You lose. Should he win the election, we all lose. Bush gets credit for stirring up the Taliban and the birth of ISIS. Trump would top that.

Elizabeth Warren takes down "small insecure money grubber Donald Trump"

The truth is a beautiful thing. Thank you Elizabeth.

Pig in a Bentley

We've been in London for about a week now and today we went for a lovely five mile walk beside the Thames. Passing through a segment of a riverside park we met a woman on an outing with a gigantic, black and white, long haired pig and a little white dog. The pig was happily munching what looked like delicious spring grass and the dog was running around investigating everything. I'm not sure if the man leaning on the nearby black Bentley was her husband or her driver but he also smiled when I complimented her on the pig.

Day trip to the past

The way we travel, it's normal for us to walk miles in a day and get back to our apartment late. By that point, I don't have the time, energy or inclination to do a proper post, hence I usually end up writing little or nothing about the wonders we see.

Road to Ostia Antica

Our recent visit to Ostia Antica, a huge archeological site about 30 kilometers from Rome, was no exception. It was a 12 hour extravaganza of wonders.

Temple figure at the oldest crossroads
in Ostia Antica

Archaeological sites and museums are our downfall. We linger and this is where it gets complicated because, when I linger, there is suddenly so much to see... and so much to learn that I didn't know I want to know.

Disturbing
Mithraeum of the Baths of Mithras
Ostia Antica

For example, archaeologists date the beginnings of Ostia Antica in the 4th century BC and mark its high point in the 2nd and 3rd centuries AD. At that time it had around 100,000 inhabitants.

Fresco remains

That makes the Ostia Antica of today a 2000 year-old Roman ghost town. How can we rush though a place like that? And, undoubtedly, we're not the only ones who have enjoyed lingering there.

Tavern at the crossroads
complete with shady characters.

Certainly residents, seafarers, traders and perhaps even a few pirates have lingered and enjoyed convivial conversation in the tavern at the old crossroads across the street from that headless naked guy. And probably many of those people went over to the communal latrine later for another good long chat.

Swami surveying Ostia Antica's 24 seat communal latrine.

But all things pass and Ostia Antica was finally abandoned in the 9th century though that didn't stop pirates from repeatedly sacking the place during its decline. Even the sea and Tiber river eventually moved away leaving the town landlocked. Then, six hundred years later, Cardinal Giulliano della Rovere, the man who later became Pope Julius II, showed up on the scene.

Typical floor in Ostia Antica

He was known as the fearsome warrior Pope. Those who crossed him payed the price, sometimes with their life. He is also the Pope who commissioned Michelangelo to paint the Sistine Chapel. But as a Cardinal in 1483, della Rovere began a major renovation of a centuries old Papal castle located just outside Ostia Antica and took many tons of marble from the city for his project. I guess that counts as recycling.

Marble arch to the Castle of Julius II at the end of day.

A little went for decoration but most of the marble was crushed, along with the history it represented, plus lime to make mortar to hold the castle's giant stones in place. About a hundred years later, after an extraordinary flood, the Papacy abandoned the place. It was a prison for awhile, sat empty for a couple of centuries and was finally restored in the 19h century to exhibit the first findings from the excavations at Ostia Antica. We noticed it as we were heading back to the train after our very long day but, naturally, went over to have a look.

Cat in his garden by the castle

I didn't start out with the intention of going into all that. This is the problem with visiting a place like Rome and its suburbs, if there even is another place like Rome and its suburbs. Nearly every little thing represents at least a thousand years of history. Fascinating, yes, but a very sticky web to quickly navigate.

European crow on an ancient marble column

Even Ostia Antica, stripped to the bone a thousand years ago, and possibly the most poorly curated major archeological site on the face of the earth, was fascinating. We dragged away.

First impressions

Rome

Side chapel in a Roman basilica

Rome is a strange place. For all its wealth, pomp, power and fabulous history, my first impression is that it's a mono culture living off its past. Of course, we've only been here a week and I'm speaking from the impressions I've gathered as we explore the street level of things so I'm probably totally off. In any case, it's an amazing place, an overwhelming place and I'm delighted and grateful to see it.

Facing the past
Museo Nazionale Romano

Make haste slowly

Florence, Italy

Florence, Italy

Lee describes the historic center of Florence, birthplace of the Renaissance, as a world suspended in amber. It's a perfect description. In 14th century Florence, the merger of Church and secular wealth, power, ruthlessness and creative energy became a flash point transforming western civilization. The Florence of today is the standing record of that fusion suspended in time for all to see.

Reliquary belonging to House of Medici
Florence, Italy

We stayed in Florence for two weeks, exploring treasures from both the Renaissance and Medieval periods. The city is full of world famous paintings, sculpture and architecture by men such as Brunelleschi, the oldest of the the founding fathers of the Renaissance, Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Donatello, Titian, Michelangelo, Botticelli and others. Lisa del Giocondo, the woman Michelangelo painted as the Mona Lisa, lived and is buried in Florence.

Galileo
was first denounced from this pulpit, an event which
culminated in him being tried for heresy during the Inquisition.
Florence

Galileo and Michelangelo are also buried there. Dante, however, is not buried there. In 1302 he found himself on the wrong side of a political conflict involving the Pope and in 1315, refusing to pay the fine, was condemned to permanent exile from his beloved Florence or be burned at the stake. In 2008 the city council of Florence passed a motion rescinding his death sentence but thus far the city of Ravenna refuses to give back his bones.

Dante and eagle outside the Duomo
Florence

Otherwise, Florence claims many honors. According to wikitravel, Florentines reinvented money, the gold florin which became the engine that drove Europe out of the "Dark Ages". Florentine bankers also financed the first route around Africa to India and the Far East. The Americas were named after a Florentine, Amerigo Vespucci. Florentines also pioneered the use of the vernacular, thus ending the use of Latin as the common language. They invented opera and Ferdinando de' Medici made possible the invention of the piano through his patronage of Bartolomeo Cristofori, a harpsichord builder from Padua.

When Michelangelo was an apprentice a rival
punched him in the nose "mashing it like a biscuit".
It remained that way the rest of his life.
Bargello Museum - Florence Italy

As for me, the unfinished sculptures Michelangelo were especially powerful, his abandoned figures half-released from the stone. Initially I assumed the unfinished pieces, the rough work, were done by assistants but, when I mentioned this to Lee, he said Michelangelo did most of the work himself, frequently working through the night and, when he did rest, often slept in his boots and clothes. That impressed me and so I read up on him. His biographer Paolo Giovio wrote that "Michelangelo's nature was so rough and uncouth that his domestic habits were incredibly squalid, and deprived posterity of any pupils who might have followed him." Various biographers describe him as solitary and melancholy although he did love one man, Tommaso dei Cavalieri

— Festina lente —
(make haste slowly)
Motto adopted by the House of Medici.
Florence morning

Italy at last

Florence, Italy

We've been skirting Italy for the last year and saw Roman's ruins and its influence everywhere, Turkey, Portugal, Spain, Croatia, England, the Netherlands, Germany, the Czech Republic, I mean Czechia. Just yesterday the Czech Republic officially announced their country's new name, Czechia. And when people say Roman, they are referring to Italy in the overall, aren't they? Italian art, sculpture, architecture. At least as influence. So finally we are in Italy. In spite of the fact that I had great expectations about this place, in spite of the fact that we've been working up it it for the last year, still it is fabulous.

Door from, or it is to, the past?

Around the Mediterranean giant palaces and cathedrals remain that were built when Rome was the center of the Western world, isolated grandeur, World Heritage sites, but here in Italy that style was a way of life. But I've said enough. I'm not a historian and I don't have the time to research every word I write so ... enough. Florence is amazing in spite of the fact that internet in our neighborhood, sucks.

Even Project Fi, Google's international phone network, is weak where we're staying. It worked even in Czechia's tiny Český Krumlov, but not here. The Renaissance began in Florence but, at least at this point, it seems to be a bit of a technological backwater.

And, while I'm on a grind,I might as well add that it's been hard to find oatmeal at a decent price. That, of course, drove M. Lee (the oatmeal fanatic) to look up the history of oatmeal in Italy. Seems you could easily get it 30,000 years ago. The first evidence of humans eating oatmeal anywhere was discovered in a cave in Italy. I hope I'm wrong but, at least so far, Italy seems like an oatmeal backwater as well.

Italy also sucks when it comes to getting a big giant American cup of coffee. Europe in general doesn't do coffee like we do coffee so no surprise that even in this otherwise very cool airbnb the "big" cups hold about two sips. I say big but only compared to the other regular size cups, the thimble size espresso cups. But these are trifles. Florence is fabulous.

My morning cup of coffee

Time past, time present, time future

Germany

The not blue Danube

If you saw 2001: A Space Odyssey, Strauss's Blue Danube Waltz is almost sure to conjure up scenes from the film but, ever since I was a kid, mention of the Blue Danube Waltz always brought to my mind the image of a gloriously blue river, blue as the bluest ever summer blue sky. So, when we got to Regensburg yesterday, a town situated on the banks of the River Danube, the first thing I wanted to do was visit the blue Danube. Sadly, I must report that, at least on that cloudy day, the river was not blue. It was gray.

Gone

Also, the town's famous medieval stone bridge was covered for repairs and even the one medieval carving on the bridge that M. Lee wanted to see had been removed for cleaning. But I'm not saying Regensburg is a bust. It's an intriguing town that's been around since the Stone Age.



In 179, Regensburg marked the northern most reach of the Roman empire though when they abandoned the city they removed it from their maps. No matter. Regensburg continued to thrive and remains a vital center to this day. For example, what is perhaps the oldest restaurant in the world is located in Regensburg. The place has been continuously open to the public for the last 500 years. And it stands on the site of a building from the 12th century that was also a restaurant, the "Garkueche auf dem Kranchen", or 'cookshop near the crane'.

Regensburg today

In 2006, Regensburg was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site and, trust me, the town has an excellent historical museum that makes it clear why it qualifies. This morning we spent five hours there seeing some of the archeological treasures from Regensburg’s last 7000 years before again exploring the city of today.

Aunt Jane

At some point, ready or not, one may be called on to send off the dead. Aunt Jane was the last of her generation so this time the task fell to us.

Ashes to ashes

She died in December. My cousins hosted a nice, low-key party celebrating her life on the Spring Equinox. My daughter and I went to Sonoma for the weekend, stayed with them at her house and helped out.

Dust to dust

The following morning, Monday, it rained lightly as cousins Cathleen and Margaret, my daughter and I took her to the cemetery. Chairs, an awning and the niche beside Uncle Phil were waiting, as was the fellow who would close their door after we left. We didn't sit. Cathleen and Margret put her ashes next to their Dad, Cathleen read a piece she wrote for the occasion and that was it. Aunt Jane would have liked that.

"We all go somewhere...into the sea, into the sky,
into another story, or into a heaven of our understanding." ~ Cathleen V.

One-legged Magpie

The one-legged magpie doesn't come here anymore. There is no need to assume the worst. She was, after all, full grown, strong, plump even, but I miss her. The Bird Park was a good place for her.

Worldview

Sweetness personified

We're leaving on Monday for a couple of months and, as usual, first we'll go to Portland to spend a little time with family. To their credit, the parents keep us supplied with photos but things there change fast.

The Gang

For example, Chance is taking full advantage of having two older brothers to learn from. Looks like he might be ready for a little one on one time.

Batter up!

Chance
expanding his worldview.

Then there's Thea. I hear she's become a graphic novel worm.  I suspect she might be up for an afternoon at Powell's Books, lunch included, gma's treat.

Graphic novel worm

And I hear Leo wants to be an artist so there's a easy trip to the art museum, lunch included. I'm not sure what special thing Frank might want to do. Last time he and I really enjoyed our special walk and lunch together. Maybe that's still good. We'll see. And, of course, there's an afternoon with gpa and gma at OMSI and/or the Portland Children's Museum. I'm pretty sure this time Chance will want in on that and the hikes.

Then, at the beginning of April we leave for Europe, first stop Germany.


Photos courtesy of Kristiana and A.B.

John Oliver brillant MURDERSLAY of Donald Trump de Drumpf

John Oliver has a refreshing, hilarious reality check for those of us who are sick, I mean really fucking sick of Trump's bullshit.

Trump Unbound

"Trump found the flaw in the American Death Star. It doesn't know how to turn the cameras off, even when it's filming its own demise." — Matt Taibbi


Matt Taibbi's article Trump Unbound in this month's Rolling Stone is longish but you won't want it to end. It's very entertaining. And insightful. Really. It's a must read. Go! Now! Read it — though surely, it's already too late.

How America Made Donald Trump Unstoppable.

In her own words

From the time Chrissy was a young woman she attended the Center for Adaptive Learning in Concord, CA. It changed her life. She was high functioning on the autistic spectrum and really bloomed in the company of others and the support she found there.

Included below is a unedited paper Chrissy once wrote at The WooWoo Club, one of C.A.L.'s social/study groups she very much enjoyed. Her enthusiasm and achievements are on a level I can only aspire to. She really lived it in full.

Life Achievements by Chrissy

I am more independent. My goal is to be less co-dependent. Don't worry about what other people think. I have learned that in relationships everyone needs their space. I realize you don't have to be a victim, work through it and keep going on, move forward.

I have acceptance of my highest capacity and what I can handle with my disability. I see my disability as a positive.

I feel good about the direction I'm going in my life and seeing how far I've come. I'm able to take care of my cat I'm exercising at Curves you feel fabulous after a workout. It's taught me to live a healthier lifestyle.

The woo-woo group helps me relate to my life's situations, and learn about natural elements. I keep a daily gratude journal. Live in the present.

I am an independent woman and treasure my adult separate life and living off-site. We all have to stand on our own in our life.

Nexus farewell

We're in Concord for the weekend to participate in a memorial for Chrissy, M. Lee's sister. She passed away just before Christmas after an abrupt decline beginning in 2010. We didn't know what was happening at first but eventually it became clear that she was suffering from early onset dementia.

Today began with a more or less traditional religious service, followed by a luncheon for her friends and tonight a dinner with family and a few close friends. Chrissy's dear friend Patrick, too nervous to read his tender memorial during the church service, read it to us after dinner, on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. His words were sweet perfect closure and so it is done. Probably we will not see most of these people again. Chrissy drew us together and now we leave with our separate memories.

Valentine poems for married people

The New Yorker posted these Valentine poems the other day. They're hilarious and real. You may even find reflections of your own life within these lines, unless you're the type who moves on when the sugary first burst of love wears off.

Valentine's Day Poems for Married People
Source: The New Yorker

Winter.
It’s been dark for, like, five hours,
And yet the children are still awake,
And I am only a little drunk.
What you call yelling I call making a point.

* * *

Our love is like the padlocks on the Pont des Arts, in Paris—
Thousands of locks, symbols of unbreakable love.
Isn’t that beautiful?
Apparently, though, all those locks are too heavy for the bridge.
Did you hear this?
I read it somewhere.
The locks are weighing the bridge down.
So you know what they’re going to do?
They’re taking them off with bolt cutters and throwing them out.
Isn’t that beautiful, too?
So now the people aren’t locked together anymore.
They’re free to maybe see other people.
I thought that was interesting.

* * *

When we have children,
They will watch no television.
No screens.
We will be different from those other parents,
And we will take pride in our being better.
Fast-forward seven years,
And it’s Sunday morning,
6 A.M.
Do you know who our friend is?
SpongeBob SquarePants, that’s who.
And, yes, you can have Mentos for breakfast.

* * *

I was almost feeling fondness for you
As you gave me a shoulder massage at the sink—
What a small, lovely surprise.
And then you grabbed my boobs and made a “wha-wha” noise.
In an instant, I felt disgust and sadness and regret.

* * *

The kids are finally down
And you are looking at me in that way,
But not really looking at me.
Tease.
Or are you just spacing out?
Yup, you’re spacing out.
You have unzipped your skirt,
And your baggy underpants ride way, way up on your hips.
How old are those, anyway?
You pull on some sweatpants and a T-shirt and a sweater and a fleece and I am not able to make out any contour of your body at all.
I think you are sending me a signal in the way that married couples send each other signals.
And, just so we’re clear, you’re signalling, “I’m going to call my sister and order sushi. You should do something, too.”

* * *

Of course the wheels on the bus go round and round.
And the wipers go swish, swish, swish.
But here’s something:
The daddy on the bus says, “This is not what I signed up for.”
And maybe the driver on the bus doesn’t go beep, beep, beep.
Maybe he just hits the guy in the crosswalk because he feels like it.
Sing that verse, why don’t you?

* * *

I’m dreaming.
But it’s so real.
A man—is it you?
Nope.
It’s Rob, Casey’s husband,
The one with the Italian accent.
We’re on the beach and he’s chasing me and I’m laughing.
He’s so tanned and fit.
And then . . .
A terrible smell,
Like death.
I’m blinking and awake and your nasty-ass breath is hot on my face.
You son of a bitch.
You God-damned son of a bitch.
Rob, come back.

* * *

We are in the bedroom in our underpants.
Let’s turn the lights down.
No, further.
“Off,” I guess, is the technical term.
Maybe try a towel under the door, where that sliver of light is coming in?
What if we just cuddle, and by cuddle I mean not actually touching—
Each of us at the far edge of our own side of the bed—
Then close our eyes for the next seven hours or so?
I like you.

* * *

I have heard that some couples watch the whole movie in a single sitting.
Food for thought.

* * *

In France, cinq à sept was once sacrosanct,
A euphemism for rendezvous,
For the thing that men and women do.
But we are not in France.
We are here, in Montclair.
And it is well past seven.
And I promised to be home at six.
And, yes, that’s booze on my breath.
The guys and I had one . . . fine, three drinks after work.
I have forgotten the milk.
And the bread and the pasta and the pull-ups.
And the allergy medicine at CVS.
Why are you dressed up?
Wait. Today is Valentine’s Day?

* * *

This Land is MY Land, quoeth the Cliven

Many thanks to William Valenti for writing this song and making the video. Plus, as I live in the Great State of Nevada, seems only fitting to repost it here.




And, to celebrate the arrest of Cliven Bundy last night at Portland's PDX, here's a link to a snippet from the "rebel radio broadcast of the remaining last four psycho idiots "holed up" at the Malheur Refuge. As these bone heads love "holing up" so much, they are going to LOVE jail.

-----------------

Since this morning these last four "freedom" fighters at Malheur have surrendered. Now begins the long clean-up.

Cool Photoshop hack

Note to self:

Next time you want to remove someone or thing from a photo try this:

Morning report and Salvador Dali's dream

It's snowing this morning and Shelby the hawk stopped by for breakfast. As I've said before, hunting in the Bird Park is not okay. I'll have to post a sign. Of course hawks have to eat and feed their young but this place is a tiny little refuge not a free-for-all. There are enormous open spaces right nearby, compete with wild horses and bears. He can hunt there like everybody else.

Usually just opening the door is enough to empty the Bird Park. Not Shelby. He didn't even bother to look my way. I got almost all the way up to him, and was beginning to fantasize tapping him on the shoulder and telling him to go, before he finally got the hint.

At the moment Shelby is the only hunter who hunts here but, if I let him stay, soon enough the fence would be lined with raptors. It's calving season. The valley is filled with predators and soon all that would be left of my little friends would piles of drifting feathers.

So... now a peak at some of the cool exhibits going on at the Dali Museum in St. Petersburg Florida.


Source: Huffington Post and The Dali Museum on YouTube

Artist as Visionary

Jean Dubuffet working in his studio in France.*

I found a very entertaining compilation of photos at Pinterest titled Artist as Visionary. The board is part of a greater collection of art, music and literature related photos all collected by an artist named Kim Zoph. Well worth a coffee break.

*Photo saved from ackermansfineart.com via Artist as Visionary (Pinterest)

Squirrel Appreciation day 2016

 photo credit: djpsychochild

It's never the wrong time to appreciate squirrels but today, Jan 21, is their official day. However, if you missed today, get some peanuts and do it tomorrow or the next day or the next — whenever you can. These plucky little guys always appreciate being appreciated.

Booklice and giants

I read in the Guardian this morning that entomologists studying “clean and normal” homes in Raleigh, North Carolina found more than 100 species living there and this was without opening drawers or ripping carpets up. Their list included spiders (that do and don't make webs), lice, centipedes, flies, beetles, ants, telephone pole beetles, miniature crickets and booklice.

Booklice. I had to look that one up. The image of books infested with their own special variety of lice is disturbing. And yes — according to the Wikipedia article — books do have lice. But books, or more specifically the paste holding books together, is a newly acquired taste for booklice. These guys have been around for 295–248 million years. But if you're a reader, don't worry. The article is quite clear that booklice don't eat humans, even if your book is an ebook.

Researchers also observed creatures never before seen in the wild including the world's smallest wasp. Of course, findings would vary probably in other locations. Maybe here in Nevada we have microscopic desert lizards on our walls.

The idea of our homes being teeming microcosms doesn't bother or surprise me. After all, there's more than the eye can see and we humans used to live in caves and, before that, trees so no big deal. Now we live in a microscopic jungle. That means we get to be the giants.

Allen Rickman, farewell.

WTF?! Now Allen Rickman dies? I'm not prepared for all this. David Bowie now him? Damn. Meanwhile, out in the Bird Park, the Flicker eagerly pummeled one apple to a husk and is now working on another. Her day is off to a good start anyway.

So, Allen Rickman. I loved that guy. They say his irrepressible glimmer redefined Hollywood's idea of villainy. Whatever the role, he was a great actor and, as I read, a wonderfully intelligent, kind man. This clip even brought a tear to my eye. What more can I say?

As Joshua Madoc wrote, "By Grabthar's Hammer, Sir, by the suns of Warvan... you shall be dearly missed."

Breakfast at 07:54

Well we're home and, as per, Maggie the 7 o'clock Magpie just dropped in for breakfast. First day, as usual. That's my girl. So far it's just her. She took one peanut and flew off but she must have gone off to tell the rest of the tidings because they all just arrived plus a few grackles, the Dove couple and a beautiful Northern Flicker with red underwings. Home again.

And, now that we're home, I'm hoping to get some writing done. It seems impossible when we're in Portland. Kids consume the time. I don't even have have the energy to do a blog post when we're there, yet I goad the Deconstructionist for letting her blog go dormant. It's been 10 months since her last post. However, I hear mumbling coming from her direction. I suspect a new entry is in the works.

Morning update 09:16

"The world always seems brighter when you've just made something that wasn't there before."
- Neil Gaiman

This morning, being gray as yesterday, calls for another log on the fire and a hot cup of coffee to get things kicked off or, if you have neither, perhaps the Neil Gaiman quote would do. It got me going. Also along with my lukewarm morning cup of coffee, I read a good article at The Atlantic by Colleen Gillard titled "Why the British Tell Better Children’s Stories". It's worth reading if you have young kids or if you're any kind of storyteller.

So, that's it for the moment. I've been away from my post here in the borderlands, tending grandchildren for awhile. It was wonderful but now we're back in the swirl, moving south and, by next week, we'll be back in Nevada though M. Lee is already planning a next adventure.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: There is a good discussion of Gillard's article on Metafilter. On the whole, seems the Mefites are quite critical of it. Lots of good points.